


promise me a place in your house of memories

by fleurting



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurting/pseuds/fleurting
Summary: "I need a favor,” Linda says and she sounds nervous but Maze agrees, without even knowing what the favor is, because she’s desperate, desperate to close this rift between them, desperate to have her friend back and well, actions speak louder than words, right?





	promise me a place in your house of memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidewinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/gifts).



> This fic is canon divergent in that Linda really _did_ break up with Amenadiel the first time. There was no sneaking around behind Maze's back.
> 
> There is a portion of this fic that deals with sexual harassment, please check the end notes for a detailed trigger warning.
> 
> My everlasting love and gratitude to L for looking this over.

It’s been a few weeks since Linda broke up with Amenadiel and things are - good. Things are good. She still wants to inflict bodily harm on Amenadiel whenever she sees him but it’s not like her feelings toward Amenadiel have ever been friendly. And she and Linda are good, better, and that’s what really matters. It’s awkward sometimes, occasionally Maze gets the feeling Linda’s walking on eggshells around her, afraid to say things she wouldn't have hesitated to say before but this version of Linda is better than nothing, she guesses. She wishes she had a therapist who wasn’t also her best friend. Maybe they could tell her how to get her friend back. Whatever, she’s trying and she’s proud of that. The old Maze would’ve killed both Linda and Amenadiel without a second thought.

As if Linda could sense she was thinking about her, Maze’s phone rings. 

“Hey, I was just thinking about you.” 

“Really? What about me?”

“How the old version of me would’ve killed you and Amenadiel after what you did.” 

Linda laughs but it’s too high pitched, forced. Maze resists the urge to sigh. This is what she means about it being different. She doesn’t want Linda to be nervous around her again, the way she was when she first found out Maze was a demon. Linda’s one of the only people who truly knows her and accepts her and loves her. At least she thinks Linda loves her. Linda’s never said as much, not out loud anyway but she broke up with Amenadiel for her, and don’t actions speak louder than words or something anyway? Ugh, she hates emotions. 

“Maze?” Linda says, snapping Maze out of her thoughts. 

"Huh?" Maze asks. "What'd you say?"

“I said I need a favor,” Linda says and she sounds nervous but Maze agrees, without even knowing what the favor is, because she’s desperate, desperate to close this rift between them, desperate to have her friend back and well, actions speak louder than words, right? 

  


* * *

  


Maze shows up at the address Linda had sent her, outfitted in her most threatening looking outfit. Which Linda hadn’t requested but if she was going to be accompanying Linda to this boring work event she was going to get her fun somewhere. Even if that fun was scaring the genitals off some half-wit interns. 

“Hey,” she says, spotting Linda pacing outside the entrance. “You look hot.” 

And she does, her dress is a form-fitting white number that’s shows off both her legs and her curves perfectly. She’s wearing heels and lipstick in the same shade of red, and a part of Maze, a part that she tries to deny, tries to force down every day, wants to imagine what it would take to smudge that lipstick, what the beautiful dress would look like falling onto the floor. But she quickly dispels that thought from her brain, just like she does with all of her non-platonic thoughts about Linda. 

“Thanks. You look—“ Linda’s eyes sweep up and down Maze’s body. “Intimidating.”

Maze knows Linda didn’t mean that as compliment but she beams, taking it as one anyway. 

“Thanks. So, what is this thing again? And why do you need me to go with you?” 

Linda takes a deep breath. “It’s a work dinner? Gala? Thing? I don’t know, whatever rich people host. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, a few weeks ago this man came into the office, said he wanted to make a donation. One of my colleagues had treated his niece and given her the proper diagnosis after years of her having trouble. He wanted to thank the practice and since he’s this wealthy investor or something so he gave us a very generous donation and he invited to this event. And I mean, it’s not like we could say no, he just gave us a ton of free money.” 

“Okay,” Maze drawls, confused. “So, what’s the problem?” 

“I just—” Linda looks around nervously and lowers her voice, despite the two of them being the only ones outside. 

“I get a bad vibe from him.” 

“The investor?”

“Yeah, something about him just doesn’t...feel right.” 

Genuine fear is in Linda’s voice and Maze’s hackles rise at the sound of it. 

“What kind of a vibe was it? Like a not human vibe?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know. I just know that I didn’t feel safe coming here alone.” 

Maze hears the unspoken _and I feel safe with you_ that Linda doesn’t say and it makes her heart clench in an unfamiliar way.  


She ignores it, like she does with majority of her feelings she doesn’t understand or doesn’t want to understand. 

She puts a protective arm around Linda’s waist and tries to ignore any romantic feelings it conjures up. “Then lead the way, m’lady.” 

  


* * *

  


The event is exactly what Maze would expect from a sleazy billionaire, which is to say that it’s garishly decorated, repulsively catered, and excruciatingly boring. They’re at a table with the rest of Linda’s colleagues, who all know Maze in passing, which means she doesn’t even get the fun of appalling any pretentious elitists with her lack of social graces and references to having inflicted torture on hundreds of people. The one good thing about it is Linda. She still seems tense, because of the creep who’s hosting this thing, but she laughing and joking with Maze again. No awkwardness or tense silences. It finally feels like they’re starting to bridge the gap between them. Maybe it’s the buffer of her coworkers, or that she’s depending on Maze right now, Maze doesn’t know but she’s glad for whatever the reason is. 

The happiness doesn’t last very long, however, because Linda soon points out the pervert she had been talking about. Maze has seen and tortured a million men like him. Tall, graying hair, a menacing smile. He’s halfway hidden in an alcove, cornering a girl who can’t be over the age of nineteen. She’s small, less than half his size, with blonde hair and green eyes, a spitting image of — 

“Guess he has a type,” Linda hisses. Her words bring Maze back to the present, out of imagining what she can do to this guy and springing her into action. 

“Stay here.”

“Maze, wait—” Linda calls but she’s already halfway across the room. 

The creep’s hand has slid down from the girl’s waist to right above her ass by the time she gets to the alcove. He’s whispering in the girl’s ear and the girl is looking around, desperately trying to lock eyes with someone. Her eyes flood with relief when she spots Maze. 

“Go on, get out of here. I’ve got this,” says Maze. The roué spins around at Maze’s voice and the girl uses the chance to escape, sparing a grateful glance Maze’s why. 

“Who are you? How did you get in here? Security!” He starts to call but Maze grabs him by the throat and slams him into the wall. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think you wanna do that,” Maze says, using her free hand to open her jacket and reveal the array of weapons she has on her. “Do you?” 

The man, not otherworldly, just a despicable human, gulps audibly, shakes his head. 

Maze smiles. “Didn’t think so.” 

“Now. That girl?” Maze nods her head toward the direction the girl had run off to. “She didn’t want you touching her. I could tell that from across the room. Which means you definitely knew it. And yet—” Maze dunks her nails deeper into the man’s throat.  
“Why?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he gasps. 

“Wrong answer. Because there is no excuse for what you did.” 

“Please,” the man pleads. 

“You’re pathetic.” Maze trails her eyes over his body, scrutinizing. “I should rip you limb from limb. Starting with this,” she says, kneeing him in the crotch. 

“Lucky for you, I’m a good person now. So, I’m gonna let you off with a warning. But if you ever so much as look at another woman without her consent again, I’ll find you. And I’ll do things to you that will have you begging for death. You got that?”

The man nods meekly. 

“Good. Now,” says Maze, pulling out one of her knives. “Let’s give you a little something to remember me by.” 

  


* * *

  


“Thank you,” Linda says. “Again.” 

They’re standing outside of Linda’s apartment, an awkward stillness in the air, and Maze is saddened by it because before she would’ve followed Linda in without an invitation. She was hoping that tonight was going to fix this, to fix them, but they’re still broken. 

“Do you wanna come in?” Linda asks after a moment and Maze feels a sense of hope start to come over her. They might not be fixed yet, but they’re trying, both of them. 

She makes her way to the liquor cabinet as soon as they’re inside, smiling as Linda deadpans “Sure. Help yourself,” because this, this feels like them again, feels like they’re finally starting to revert back to their old normal. 

“Ugh, those were killing me,” Linda says, slipping out of her shoes. 

“Beauty is pain,” Maze replies, sitting down on the couch, and drinking straight from the bottle she’s procured. 

Linda rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, inexplicably fond. 

“I’m gonna go change,” Linda says, and Maze nods, barely listening as she rifles through all of Linda’s stuff. 

“Maze,” Linda calls a few minutes later. “Can you come here a sec?”

Maze follows her voice into the bedroom, stopping short when she lays eyes on Linda. She’s let her down her updo, a springy mess of curls now in its place, and her face is stripped of makeup. She’s seen Linda drunk, seen her angry, seen her lying in a hospital bed, but for some reason this version of Linda gets to her. Linda’s usually so carefully constructed, but here, now, she looks so vulnerable. And she’s willing to share that vulnerability with Maze, and it kind of makes Maze realize that she wouldn’t mind showing her own vulnerabilities, not if it was Linda she was sharing with. 

“Can you help me?” Linda asks, struggling trying to reach the back of her dress. “I can’t get the zipper.” 

Maze swallows. “Sure.” 

She steps up behind Linda, carefully moves all of her hair aside. She grabs the slider, slowly starts pulling it down, revealing an expanse of skin. Linda has freckles scattered across her back. She didn’t know that. 

The zipper goes all the way down the length of Linda’s back and truthfully, Maze could’ve stopped by now, the zipper now easily within Linda’s reach, but she doesn’t want to and Linda isn’t stopping her. 

“There you go,” Maze says, voice coming out hoarse, once she’s fully unzipped the dress. 

“Thank you,” Linda says softly, turning around. Their bodies are mere inches apart, almost touching with every breath. Linda’s holding the dress strategically, so it just covers the top of her breasts. Her shoulders and a decent portion of her chest are exposed though and Maze has to force herself to look away and up into Linda’s eyes. 

Her gaze flits down to Linda’s lips and before she knows it, they’re both leaning in. Her hands are on Linda’s neck, Linda’s breath is fanning across her face, and both of their mouths are inching closer to this inevitability. But before her lips can even brush across Linda’s, Linda pulls back. 

“We can’t,” she says, shaking her head back and forth, like she’s trying to convince herself. 

Immediately, Maze’s defenses are back up. 

“Why? Because of Amenadiel?”

She’s being mean and she knows it but she’s in pain. She’s been rejected before, not often, but it has happened, but it’s never hurt like this. 

Luckily, Linda knows her, knows how she operates, knows her mind inside and out, so she just replies with a firm, “No.” 

“Because of me.” 

Maze’s brow furrows. “What are you—”

“How old are you?” Linda interrupts. 

Maze doesn’t understand where Linda’s going with this but she plays along anyway. 

“In human years? I dunno, like thirty-seven maybe? 

Linda laughs but it isn’t her real one, it’s her disbelieving one, the one she uses when the situation is anything but funny. 

“I’m almost fifty.”

“So,” Maze shrugs. “Who cares? Technically I’ve been alive for a millennia.” 

Linda shakes her head. “It’s not the same.”

“You - you don’t age,” Linda says, starting to veer toward angry or hysterical or some combination of both. “And you’re immortal!”

“So?” 

“So, I don’t want to start something, something real, if it’s just gonna get my heart broken.” 

“Who says I’m going to break your heart?” Maze says, defensive. 

“Maybe you won’t. Not intentionally. But I don’t think I could stand it if we were to do this and I had to spend every day watching you stay immortal while I kept on aging.”

“But aren’t you kind of doing that now, anyway?”

“Yes. But only as your friend. I just feel like—. Like, loving you any more than I do now would make it so much worse.” 

“But isn’t that the point of all of this humanity bullshit? Knowing you could get hurt and doing it anyway? Because it’s worth it?” 

Linda doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Maze walks over, puts a hand on the side of Linda’s face, communicates with her eyes what she’s about to do, giving Linda an out. But Linda doesn’t take it, just keeps flirting her gaze between Maze’s eyes and her lips. 

“Maze,” Linda breathes right before Maze kisses her. It doesn’t feel like fireworks, not that she was expecting it to, but it feels - right, feels like coming home. Linda must agree because she brings her arms around Maze’s waist, pulls her closer. They stay like that, exploring each other until the need for air is too great to ignore. 

“Is that not worth it?” Maze asks, voice coming out as a whisper. 

Linda takes a shaky breath. “Well, you certainly make a good argument.”

Maze smirks, then pulls Linda in for another kiss.

It doesn’t fix everything, it barely fixes anything, but it’s a start. As for the rest of it, they’ll figure it out, together. 

Christ, that was sappy. Has Maze mentioned how much she hates emotions?

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: an older man of influence corners a young woman and puts his hands on her waist without her consent.


End file.
